20240426 LA to San Diego

The Amtrak Pacific surfliner drinking a light bodied Californian pinot noir.

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Landed at LAX and made it through customs. Vindicated that I could finally say "I told you so" to Grace that the loose Nurofen I had in my washbag would not be a problem for homeland security and the TSA.

We had planned to stay in downtown LA for one night before heading off the following evening, naively assuming that it would be no worse than any of the other major European cities we were used to. Unfortunately California and Los Angeles in particular is at the centre of the USA's escalating homeless crisis. With few of the social safety nets we are accustomed to in the UK, mental illness and structural poverty seem curiously unchecked in the worlds richest nation. This is, of course, is news to exactly no one. Everyone knows things are bad and that a lot of people are on the edge. But it rattled me nonetheless to see a lot of what we saw that day, especially in such stark comparison to the skyscrapers of Wells Fargo and AECOM, and the manicured grandeur of the Los Angeles Hall of Justice.

We got stuck in regardless, and had huevos rancheros for breakfast at Grand Central Market before mooching around The Broad and the LA Museum of Contemporary Art - bemused Europeans gawping at Warhols and Basquiats. After exhausting the free exhibitions we went up to the top floor of City Hall and squinted out from the observatory trying to spot the Hollywood sign.

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Back on the train we headed south, catching our first sight of the Pacific ocean as the sun was setting. I was thrilled to discover that Grace had booked us a hostel in the downtown area of San Diego too, though it would not be for long. Two PCT-enthusiasts known as 'trail angels' (strangers providing food, shelter and resources to aspiring hikers) had offered to put us up while we got ready to start the trail, and it was ultimately to them where we were headed.